


The Lamentation

by peltonea



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Far Cry Fanzine 2020, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25014463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peltonea/pseuds/peltonea
Summary: John Seed flees for his life after an ill-thought-out attempt at forcibly converting the Junior Deputy.Written for the Far Cry 5 2020 Fanzine,available here.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Far Cry Fanzine 2020





	The Lamentation

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place between the story missions 'The Atonement' and 'Wrath'.

A gunshot: point blank, nearly taking John's head off. A sharp pain in his right ear, his hand automatically reaching up even as John’s men drag him out of the church, stuffing him into the backseat of a waiting vehicle. They pull away, quickly picking up speed even on the pothole-riddled roads of Fall's End. More gunshots echo behind them, shouting and screaming devolving into complete, utter chaos. John takes his hand away from his ear, bright red blood coating his hand. The Lord is truly watching over him, if He ensured that the Deputy missed at such close range. 

Oh, Father… how did it all go so wrong? The sinners were _right_ _there_. The Deputy was ready to face their atonement! And then… Jeffries. Of _course_ it was Jeffries, the lying, heretical _scumbag_! What supposed man of God carries a Glock in a false Bible? It’s all _his_ fault! 

John scowls. He peers over the backseat, past the man handling the mounted gun on the truck bed, to the town several hundred metres behind them. His blood runs cold. 

The Deputy has somehow commandeered a vehicle, standing in the truck bed behind a mounted gun. John can't see them clearly, but there's only one person in the county who wears  _ that _ shade of green, Hudson and Pratt notwithstanding. Somebody else is driving, and they're far away, but the fact they're in pursuit at all...

"Go faster!" John orders, his voice much less steady than he’d like. "We can't let them catch up to us!"

"Yes, sir!" comes the answer from the driver. The man on the truck bed starts shooting, and John scrambles to start broadcasting on his handheld radio. 

"All remaining units near Fall's End! The Deputy is chasing us back to the ranch! Protect me!" 

There's a chorus of tinny, crackled affirmatives, and within moments there are more vehicles between John and the Deputy. More gunshots, more yelling. But more importantly, more space. More time. More opportunity to survive. 

John's driver takes a sharp right at Rye Aviation, and no sooner have they cleared the corner than there's a deafening explosion: the burning remains of a vehicle slide across John's field of vision, rolling to a stop in the bushes near the riverside. 

John ducks back behind the backseat, starts praying again: oh, God,  _ please _ deliver him from the Deputy's wrath. 

Moments later, there’s a loud crashing sound. John peeks through the backseat window once more. As if on cue, there’s another hail of bullets from the Deputy. The man at the mounted gun howls, the back window shattering, broken glass raining down over John as he shields himself with his arms, ducking back behind the seat. And then the Lord answers John’s prayers with a crackling from his radio. 

“Target sighted.” 

A loud roaring overhead. A loud explosion somewhere behind them. A  _ different _ kind of gunfire. 

John glances up, through the hole where the window used to be. A white-painted plane is strafing the sinners. The Lord has not forsaken him  _ just _ yet. 

The truck passes over a couple short, uneven bridges. They’re nearly there. John wants to say ‘nearly safe’, but he’s not so sure that they are. It had taken  _ hours _ to purge the sinners from the ranch, and John had lost many good men and women doing so. Most of his remaining guards and soldiers had come to Fall’s End with him, only to be mowed down by the Deputy in their rage. Is he really going to be  _ safe _ at home? The Deputy is worryingly  _ good _ at slaughtering John’s men. 

John’s driver seems to have the same idea, because he starts speaking, jerking the truck left onto John’s driveway. 

“Sir, when we get to the ranch, you need to run. Take Affirmation and go to your Gate. We’ll buy you enough time to get out of here.” 

“Yes,” John replies, and meets the driver’s eyes for a split second. There’s understanding there. A grim kind of resoluteness, the kind that only comes from true belief. From true loyalty. From true  _ goodness _ . 

John will pray for these men tonight. Each and every one of them. They deserve so much more than this. So much more than to be murdered in cold blood by the harbinger of the apocalypse. John doesn’t even know their names. Still, he will not let their sacrifice be in vain.

John readies himself as the house comes into view. The moment the truck screeches to a halt, the driver diving for his rifle, John’s scrambling out of the rear door. 

“Run! We’ll hold them off!”

John obeys. He can hear the sound of engines and gunfire getting closer. He doesn’t have much time. He starts sprinting toward Affirmation, sitting out on the runway ready for him. How fortunate it is that he’d planned to celebrate the Deputy’s atonement with a late afternoon flight across Holland Valley. For once, John’s pride has worked in his favour. 

There’s a loud explosion, more screaming. A cloud of smoke drifting up from the fields south of the ranch. The silo full of Bliss? Almost certainly.

John passes the hangar quickly. Behind him, yet more gunfire. Yelling. He ignores the cacophony: he’s almost there. It would be wrong to waste the sacrifices of the people trying to protect him from the Deputy and their all-consuming wrath, which has all but burnt Hope County to the ground. 

John’s fingers close around the pilot’s door and he clambers in, not even bothering to buckle himself in before he starts the engine. He slams the door shut as the plane starts rolling forward, doesn’t look back even when Affirmation climbs higher and higher into the blue expanse of the sky. He keeps accelerating, hoping, praying. Is he safe? 

There’s another sharp crackle over the radio, and a familiar,  _ wrathful _ voice fills the cabin.

“I’m coming for you, John.” 

Apparently not. 

The Deputy is never going to stop, are they? They'll just keep going and going; even if John seals himself in his bunker, they'll either find a way to kill him in there, or they'll turn their attention to Joseph. The Deputy has already killed so many-- what would be one more, added to the pile of bodies behind them? And Joseph is so forgiving, so pacifistic, so  _ good _ ; he'd welcome the Deputy with open arms, even as they slid a knife between his ribs. 

No. That can't happen. John cannot--  _ will _ not-- allow it. There's only one thing he can do: end this now, before the Deputy drags the rest of humanity into Hell with them. The faithful will be saved. Eden's Gates shall be opened. And most importantly: the Father will be there to lead them. Protected. Praised. As he rightfully should be.

John squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, the dread in his stomach weighing so heavily, he half-fears it might send him plunging from the sky. He takes a deep breath, checks his ammunition. Fully loaded, just in case.

Good. He’ll make this quick. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was challenged to write a short piece that celebrated everybody's favourite asshole lawyer, John Seed, and what better way to do that than focusing upon the immediate aftermath of his most costly mistake?
> 
> I had the joy of signing up with my dear friend Katharina (mr-arainai / zenodraws on tumblr), and we were assigned partners. Thank you so much, Katharina, for coming up with so many excellent ideas for our piece and for creating the gorgeous accompanying artworks. Thank you so much to Chloe (tumblr user unclefungusthegoat) and Lucy (tumblr user lucy-and-loki) for running this project and putting the zine together. And last but not least, thank you so much to my in-depth beta readers, tumblr users chyrstis and ofravensandgenesis. I could not have done this without you. 
> 
> And as for you, dear reader: thank you reading this. Feel free to let me know what you think, or drop me a line at my tumblr blog, amistrio.


End file.
